


Return to dust

by anamia



Series: Even snakes bleed red [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Sharing a Body, not a very healthy one really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamia/pseuds/anamia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to some rumors, the Slytherin house common room did not, in fact, contain a gilded throne to be fought over viciously by ambitious young serpents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return to dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persephoneshell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneshell/gifts).



> So I haven't played in _this_ sandbox in a while. A quick reminder that in this 'verse Ginny was sorted into Slytherin and both Harry and Hermione know about Tom. (Eventually I'll sort out exactly how that happens and write it up. Maybe. There's a lot of things in this 'verse I should eventually write up.) Also, not a whole lot happens in this fic and for that I apologize.

Contrary to some rumors, the Slytherin house common room did not, in fact, contain a gilded throne to be fought over viciously by ambitious young serpents. Its lack, however, had never hindered those students who rose to the top of the pack, and it certainly did not stop fifteen-year-old Ginevra Weasley from sitting in the best armchair in the room as though she owned the place. Ginny, who gifted use of her shortened name only to favored companions and trusted them to understand the honor, bent over her transfiguration essay, half her attention on the activity around her. At her side sat Astoria Greengrass, Ginny's closest female ally in Slytherin House, honey-blonde hair tumbling down her back in a seemingly effortless look that took twenty minutes of careful spellwork every morning to achieve. Blaise Zabini lounged on Ginny's other side, book hovering in front of his face. Every so often he gave an indolent flick of his wand to turn a page, face a mask of bored indifference.

Astoria wrote a few more lines of her own essay then pushed it away with an exaggerated flourish. "Well that was tedious," she proclaimed.

Ginny, still writing, shrugged. In the back of her mind she could feel an insistent presence, sharp and seductive, but she ignored it for the moment.

"You'll be grateful for it when OWLs come around," Blaise commented, though he hadn't seemed to be listening. Ginny had stopped being fooled by his outer appearance years ago; Blaise was always listening.

Astoria rolled her eyes at this. " _Thank_ you Blaise," she said. "I was not aware that you had become one of our professors this year. So good of you to inform us early."

Blaise's lips twitched in a hint of a smirk. "I live to serve," he said.

"Serve yourself, you mean," Astoria countered, and he only shrugged.

"Family must come first. Wouldn't you agree Ginny?"

Ginny glanced up from her homework, molding her face into an expression of false sincerity. "Why certainly," she said. "BI ut surely you don't need me to confirm that. Your family is so known for protecting its own, after all." She turned her eyes back to her parchment even as Astoria laughed. She and Blaise were allies, but they were bound by ties of House politics and mutual enemies more than friendship. She tolerated his presence, enjoyed his barbed tongue on occasion, but they were not friends even with the somewhat unconventional definition of friendship used by the ambitious players of Slytherin.

A few minutes later Ginny finished her own essay and sat back in her chair, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and standing. Astoria moved to join her, but Ginny waved her back to her seat, picking up her essay. "I won't be a minute," she said. Half the people in the common room followed her with their eyes as she stepped into her dormitory; Ginny had learned charisma early and using it always infuriated the one from whom she had stolen it in the first place.

In her dormitory, she dropped her completed essay onto her night table and waited, silently challenging the presence in her mind to announce itself more fully. Tom Riddle, known in certain circles as the Dark Lord Voldemort, did not hesitate.

 _You utterly misinterpreted Deerling's point_. Tom's voice in her mind tasted of ink and blood, a velvet sound laced through with harsh dissonances.

 _I did not_ , Ginny returned. According to Tom her voice smelled of fresh cut grass and tasted of nightshade, though Ginny knew better than to take anything he said at face value. _We discussed this yesterday. And Hermione agrees with me._

 _Hermione_ , Tom said acidly _, is not always right._

 _And neither are you,_ Ginny said. _Yet that's never stopped you before_. 

Tom sent a burst of pain to Ginny's right hand in retaliation, causing her to hiss as agony bloomed across her joints. A moment later it retreated.

 _Keep an eye on Malfoy_ , Tom continued as though he had not just turned her own pain receptors against her in an act of petty revenge.

 _I always keep an eye on Malfoy_ , Ginny said. _Though I'm a little surprised he hasn't made his move yet._

Tom sent a wave of dark amusement coursing through her, the closest he could come to snorting without wrestling control of her vocal chords from her. _Did I not tell you he was a coward? He won't attack until he thinks he's guaranteed to win. But he hasn't forgotten how we usurped his position, and he's bonded to my other self now. It will make him bolder._

Ginny nodded. _I've got contingency plans_ , she said, and ignored the sudden influx of pure irritation flooding her mind, a reminder from Tom that he had as much a hand in those contingency plans as she did. If he was going to treat her as though she couldn't see the mood of her House for herself, then she would gladly return the favor.

She picked up a book from her nightstand and tucked it under her arm before making her way back into public. Tom still hung at the forefront of her mind, looking through her eyes without quite being in control of them. It was a delicate balance, one that had taken years to perfect, but they worked in tandem now as Ginny made her way back to her seat. Pansy Parkinson, whom Ginny had unseated, sent her a poisonous glare from the other side of the common room, which Ginny met coolly. Pansy wouldn't act until Draco did; Ginny had nothing to fear from her for the moment.

Astoria and Blaise were in the middle of a heated game of cards when Ginny reclaimed her chair. She watched them just long enough to identify the game and the stakes -- Merlin's Poker and firewhiskey respectively -- then opened her book. She and Tom both set to reading, one set of eyes traveling swiftly down the page as two minds absorbed the information it had to offer. Taking this book, a volume on necromancy they were strictly forbidden from even looking at much less owning, into public was risky but they hadn't claimed the top spot of the House by avoiding risks. Tom's illusion charms were top notch, if somewhat vicious, and more than one overly curious student, including Blaise himself, had come away with the impression that Ginny had taken an interest in a history of wizarding Scotland whose rather gruesome pictures had a tendency to linger in one's mind eye for weeks. Hermione, despite knowing full well the book's true contents, had insisted on experiencing the illusions and she hadn't sleep well for a week.

It was Ginny, not Tom, who spotted the key piece of information first. A sentence, barely even a passing reference, but it didn't matter. An instant after Ginny noticed it Tom was practically flooding her system with excited triumph. 'All traces of Nemo were lost after that,' the sentence read, 'prompting some to speculate that his soul was trapped between worlds indefinitely.'

Had Ginny and Tom inhabited separate bodies they would have exchanged knowing looks. Destroying Voldemort was impossible without destroying Tom in the process, an outcome neither Ginny nor Tom found acceptable. For months they and Hermione had been looking for a loophole. Now, with the uncertain fate of the necromancer known to history only as Nemo, they had their first loophole. As Ginny carefully marked their place in the book, she knew it wasn't just her controlling their suddenly predatory smirk.


End file.
